


The Touch Of A Fingertip

by BunniesAndBooks



Series: The Christmas Calendar [20]
Category: Glee
Genre: Finger Sucking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2851130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunniesAndBooks/pseuds/BunniesAndBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 20. Kurt/Elliott<br/>Prompt: Kurt asks Elliott to give him guitar lessons. All the physical contact and focus on the fingers causes a lot of UST.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Touch Of A Fingertip

“So, remember a few months back when you promised me you would teach me how to play the guitar?” Kurt called, going into the kitchen and picking up the small plate of cookies he'd prepared earlier when he'd invited Elliott over. “I mean, you even made me buy a guitar an everything.”

“I remember,” Elliott replies, sinking back into the soft cushions of the couch.

“Well, I was thinking of playing a little Christmas song or something for my dad when I went back for the holidays, and I _kinda_ need your help learning one.” Kurt said lightly, trying to keep out the desperation in his voice. Truth was he had completely forgotten all about the upcoming Christmas this year, and all he had managed to score for his father were a lousy t-shirt and a pair of socks. Not exactly the most fun or adventurous gift, so he figured that learning a song to play for his father might make him forget about it. And yeah, gifts weren't anywhere near the most important part in the Hudmel household – it certainly hadn't been ever since what happened to Finn – but it felt wrong to come bearing something so crappy.

“And you _just_ thought about getting around this?” Elliott questioned softly, raising his eyebrows dubiously. “You forgot to buy a gift didn't you?”

Sometimes it really sucked having a friend who knew you so well.

“No, _technically_ I didn't forget it; I have a gift...” Kurt drawled out, before lowering his eyes and smiling faintly. “It just sucks is all.”

“Ah,” Elliott sighs understandingly, putting down the cookie he'd been nibbling on, brushing his hands to get rid of any stray crumbs. “Sure, I'll help. Any idea what song?”

“I was thinking... something that's easy enough for a beginner,” Kurt smiles guiltily. “I just have a few days to learn it and all before my flight, and I sort of wanted to feel confident I wouldn't mess it up. Think you have something in that rock 'n' roll mind of yours?”

“Rock 'n' roll mind of...” Elliott mutters, obviously deep in though. It isn't even ten full seconds before Kurt can practically see the light bulb go off in his head. “So, I think I have an idea. It's pretty basic with a few nice tricks, and I think you'll be able to handle it, even being a rookie. You've heard of 'I'll be home for Christmas' right?” He waits for Kurt to answer with a curt nod before he continues, “well, I've been playing my own version of it for a few years now – it's kind of a mix of several other versions. No rock 'n' roll in there though. Sorry,” he jokes. “Sounds good?”

“Sounds great,” Kurt agrees, happy that Elliott is agreeing to this. He really should get the man an awesome birthday present when it comes up in a few weeks because of this. “When can we get started?”

“Oh, you wanted to- well, okay, if you have your guitar tuned and ready I think we could try it out now, I guess,” Elliott acquaintances, and Kurt smiles, relieved, all of his teeth on display.

“Thank you,” he breathes, standing up and finding the out of sight hidden guitar. “So how do we do this?” Kurt asks sitting down on the couch again.

“Well, first of all you'll have to sit on my other side Kurt,” Elliott points out, “I need to reach the neck so I can show you where to place your fingers. Unless you _want_ me laying all over your lap every few seconds, that is,” he teases. Kurt only sticks out his tongue, but moves. “Good, now put the guitar down.”

“What?” Kurt asks, confused.

“We need to warm up your fingers. Stretch them if you will,” Elliott explains, showing what to do by stretching his fingers back with his other hand. “You played piano, same principles.”

So that's what they do for the next few minutes; Elliott showing what to do with Kurt copy-cating him. It's easy enough, but it sure wasn't what Kurt had expected.

But then the guitar is back in his hands, laying comfortable in his lap, and Elliott shows him where to put his fingers by guiding them to their proper place. “They need to rest... there, and then you can strum it. Okay, good, sorta, strum it like you mean it. Better. Now you have to move it like this. Strum. Good. Then like this. Good, a bit harder, but good. And now like this. Exellent. And that was the first half of the chorus, now we just do that over and over again until you know it. Then we move on to the rest. Okay? Good, now go back to the first part I showed you.”

Only problem is, Kurt really can't remember how to place his fingers, because during all of that the only thing he'd been able to focus on was the wholly unexpected feeling of having his fingers held and guided earlier. It had been... oddly sensual. Spine tingling. Sexy. 

And his mind was positively inappropriate at the moment.

“Sorry, I don't remember,” Kurt apologizes. “Can you show me again, I promise to concentrate better this time.” And he will, he tells himself so insistently.

“Okay, like this,” Elliott shows patiently, moving just a tad closer, and God, Kurt is screwed. Because once again his fingers are being picked up and shown to their place, and all Kurt is able to focus on is how that touch to his fingers is feeling. How the fingers holding him are calloused and rough, how sure they feel directing his, and how good wouldn't it feel to have those fingers touching him somewhere else..?

Stop! Bad Kurt. Bad, bad Kurt! Elliott is his friend, he shouldn't be thinking like this, it's wrong on so many levels. But at the same time he can't quite help himself, not now when Elliott's heat seem to radiate against his own body. Not when his fingers are beings touched so softly. Not with that warm arm slung around his shoulder as he's being encouraged to strum the guitar again.

What would it feel like if those calloused fingertips ran along his wrists instead, if they gripped there tight, held him in place? How would it feel if they ran along his biceps, over his shoulders, his neck? Would he shiver? What would it feel like if they cupped his jaw...

When he turns to look at Elliott he is right there, just inches away from his own face, and for some reason Kurt can't help but quickly glance down at his mouth. He looks away and down at the guitar in his lap when he realizes what he's doing, hoping that the other man didn't notice.

“Arhm,” he coughs awkwardly. “So, what's next?”

Elliott only chuckles – the vibrations from it feel so good against his body – and shows Kurt how to move his fingers again, causing another set of shivers to run up his spine. Kurt is certain he's blushing red by now, his body is so treacherous – he can certainly feel that the tip of his ears are burning up.

“You should probably sit up straighter though,” Elliott says, drawing him out of his one-track-mind. “Come on, up...” And then fallows the most awkward minute in Kurt's life, for now Elliott is helping him move his entire body, showing him how to relax his muscles and just generally touching him all over. At one point Elliott had placed one of his palms on his stomach, meaning to help Kurt breathe, but all Kurt had been able to think about was the erection beginning to form in his tight pants and hoping Elliott wouldn't see.

What he does not notice is how Elliott's eyes slowly darkens as he directs Kurt, how they have darkened ever since first picking Kurt's long fingers up that first time. With his head bowed down, eyes closed tightly to try and get his bearings he doesn't see how Elliott let's his eyes trail over Kurt's body, how he grins when he notices the state of Kurt's pants. He doesn't see Elliott adjusting himself or how he grins mischievously.

He doesn't notice anything because in his mind he imagines those fingers splaying out across his bare skin instead, how they travel lower, lower, lower before they palm him properly. How the fingertips run up and down his weeping length, teasing him so greatly. He wonders how it would feel if they played with his balls, or his perineum, or lower still.

Kurt shivers pleasantly when fingers stroke lightly up his side, bringing him out of his fantasies, and how they're pressing lightly against his ribs, how they make goosebumps appear when they skim the skin of his neck and shoulder. He gasps when lips trails over his jaw, eyes opening wide as his fingers tighten around the guitar.

Is Elliott really..?

The answer to that question is obvious when the guitar is plucked from his lap and lain down on the table, hands now fallowing the inseam of his pants.

“Elliott,” he breathes when they derail around his erect length, fingers instead drawing patterns into his other thigh. “Please.”

“Please what?” Elliott mumbles, hitching himself closer and picking Kurt's hand up, sucking his fingers into his mouth.

Kurt swallows harshly feeling his fingers being virtually blown like that, and when he does answer it's more of a pathetic whine as he slumps against Elliott. “Please make me come,” he begs brokenly, shuddering when that talented mouth hallows around his digits, tongue lapping around them. He is so hard it's torture being enclosed in the kind of pants he likes to wear, and with his one free hand he reaches down to release himself, only finding another hand intending to do the same.

When he springs free from both pants and underwear Kurt sighs relieved, his own fingers circling around the base of his dick and squeezing. It does help, not much, but it helps. At the very least it doesn't ache anymore, and he can concentrate on his fingers being worshiped by a magical mouth.

Eyes heavy lidded and blackened beyond recognition Kurt looks on as his fingers are being swallowed around, how they are being nibbled on, how they are being treated like gods. And if it isn't the hottest thing Kurt has seen. As the heat pools in his abdomen Kurt begins to softly, slowly stroke himself, just so he won't go crazy from how his length already pulses in his hand.

When Elliott at last releases him with a few last kitten-licks Kurt is panting heavily, eyes clouded from the needy haze he's been shoved fingers first into. Elliott is grinning deviously at him, tongue taking it's sweet time as he licks his dry lips.

Before Kurt knows it he's connected their lips hungrily, desperately shoving his tongue into that glorious mouth, tasting it as he feels hands cup his jaws. His own hands are clenching into the tight fabric of Elliott's fitted t-shirt, wrinkling it as he scrambles to straddle the older man's thighs.

Settled he moans into his friend's mouth, eyes rolling back as he grinds himself down against Elliott's impressive erection. Fuck, did that feel good. So he does it again, and again, and again. Driving his ass down Kurt groans time and time again against Elliott's delectable mouth, and with Elliott not being exactly quiet himself, Kurt is glad they have the apartment to themselves.

“Come on Elliott,” Kurt spurs him on, bucking his hips obscenely. “Come on, touch me.”

“Oh god, yes,” Elliott breathes, one hand falling from Kurt's blushing face and fallowing the lines of his body down to where he wants it the most. He whines when those rough fingertips brush against him, and when they reach further down, holding his balls and rolling them between them Kurt outright cries out, humping the air lasciviously.

Feeling that hand at last curling around him Kurt is quick to paw his way down to Elliott's own cock, stroking it over the fabric for now as he adjust to the amazing feeling of having somebody touch him so splendidly. Grinding the heel of his hand down he can feel Elliott tremble against him, and that coupled with the hand on his cock is sending Kurt's mind whirling.

Fingers shaking Kurt gets the stupid fly open, pushing the flaps aside so he can reach into Elliott's underwear and get him out, the thick erection heavy in his hand. Leaning forward he latches his mouth onto the tanned neck before beginning to pump the fat length in his grip, wringing heading noises out of the man beneath him.

Letting his teeth dig lightly into the skin beneath him Kurt felt himself begin to shake violently, his orgasm sneaking up on him until he's ready to burst, and it's the thumb brushing quickly over his slit that sends him over. Thick, sticky ropes of milky-white cum gushes out of him, and he cries out soundlessly, hips thrusting furiously up into the tight fist holding him.

Elliott isn't faring much better; Kurt can feel how he's about to explode against his slack fingers, and gathering up the last ounces of strength he possesses from that mind-blowing orgasm Kurt tightens his fingers, stroking him a handful of times before he shoots as well. Kurt can feel his fingers being gushed with the sticky fluid, and lazily he raises the hand, offering it to Elliott as the man just keeps coming. 

He can feel a tongue lick over his fingers a few times before he pulls it back to taste it himself. It's salty, yet sweet, and quite tasty over all. His dick twitches against his thigh as he shivers.

They're both absolutely covered in cum as they fall against one another, their limbs tangling together as they lean back against the couch, Kurt not moving an inch away from his comfortable position on Elliott's lap.

“Maybe we should find Dani to help you with the song,” Elliott suggest breathlessly a few minutes later, Kurt still laying slumped against his now marred neck. “I'll try to teach you one more time, but I don't know if we'll make it past the first bar before one of us pounces the other.”

“Eh, I could just buy him a CD,” Kurt shrugs tiredly, already knowing that even trying to learn the guitar will be futile – all he'll be able to think about is Elliott's fingers dancing against his skin.

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Yeah.”

Things are quiet for a few minutes, the only noise in the apartment being their breathing.

“Up for round two?”

“Definitely.”


End file.
